


A New Paladin

by CrystalRebellion



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Healing, Lance and Lotor could totally be friends, making amends, purple paladin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalRebellion/pseuds/CrystalRebellion
Summary: After successfully storming the pyramid and rescuing Lotor from both Honerva and his fate in the Sincline ship, the team has a new and unexpected logistical feat to tackle.  With Lotor recovering in the infirmary ward, Lance finds himself taking lead on the task of finding armor suitable for the Emperor when the Garrison Standard Issues prove woefully unhelpful and unfit.  [Season 8-Canon Divergent] [One-Shot] [Background Implied Lotura] [Lightly Implied Plance]
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	A New Paladin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I promise I'm still here! I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe in these unusual times. I've gotten a couple of queries about the status of some other stories - I promise I am still working on them, they are not forgotten. COVID-19 has left me and a few other people I know in a bit of a creative dry spell, and I am pleased to have been inspired to break it with this little piece of fluff. Be well, be safe, and take care!

“Hey, are you spy-”

A sharp noise left Keith’s nose as he glanced angrily over his shoulder at the sound of Lance’s intrusion. Undaunted, Lance closed the distance between them. Keith’s back reclined against one of the Atlas walls next to an open door, his chin tucked down to his chest and head canted slightly to the side as he listened to the muffled words floating from the interior room.

“Seriously though, what-”

Lance stopped and folded his arms over his chest defensively when Keith shot him a dangerous look. After a moment of a strong, nonverbal warning, Lance sighed and flopped against the steel wall beside the man, curious what had earned Keith’s attention.

Satisfied that his unexpected company was going to honor the silence, Keith turned his head away, focusing once more on the open door immediately beside him. Disgruntled, Lance did the same. After a moment, three distinct voices could be parsed.

“-afraid so.”

“We’ll see what the Coalition finds,” Shiro replied to a question Lance hadn’t heard. “In the meantime, it’s best if you focus on yourself for now. Is there anything else we can get for you?”

“Yes, please let us know,” Allura encouraged.

A frustrated exhale sounded in response.

“Actually, there might be one thing…”

Lance stiffened at the familiar sound of the Emperor’s voice, and it suddenly occurred to him why Keith was so interested in the conversation. The last several days had been a whirlwind of chaos after a perilous mission to extract Lotor from Honerva’s power - and… from Sincline.

Keith glanced at Lance as a shudder rolled down his spine at the memory of the man in his ship and the abject horror of what the rift had warped him into. 

The Black Paladin’s lips tightened in a knowing smile, recognizing the haunted memories ghosting his eyes. _None_ of the Paladins had been resting easy with what they had uncovered; least of all Allura. It was no wonder that she was at his side in the infirmary at the first hint of consciousness.

“Name it,” Shiro encouraged.

A heavy silence filled the room, and Lance could practically hear the way Allura’s fingers were twisting together. The princess had been on pins and needles since he was brought back and a strange, proud sensation settled in his chest. She was finally getting what she needed - to speak with Lotor.

“Thank you, for the vestments,” Lotor began carefully, as if taking caution with his words. “But would it perhaps be possible to find a soldier’s armor instead? I mean no disrespect,” he added.

“We… I, we can certainly try,” Shiro began. “The problem is, the Paladin armors are able to conform to varying body types - our… earthly ones do not do that so easily. Is… something wrong with the armor? I promise, I’m not using it these days, and Keith still wears his red one.”

“You deserve so much higher than a mere cadet’s uniform,” Allura insisted. “If I could return your proper armor to you, I would in a moment. A Paladin’s garb would suit you! I… however, I do understand if you don’t wish to wear our flag after-”

“No, Princess, not that.” Lotor was quick to interject. “Thank you for extending your legendary armor to me. I should be more grateful for the offer. Thank you.”

“No,” Shiro hedged gently. “There’s something about it, if it’s not that it’s one of ours, what causes the hesitation?”

Seconds stretched into minutes.

“It’s alright, Lotor, you can tell us,” Allura encouraged gently.

“My father was a Black Paladin, too, you know,” he finally murmured quietly, his voice twisting as he worked the words out. “And I’m... not certain that I-”

“Say no more.” Shiro’s words were quick and decisive as dawning understanding cracked over both Allura and Shiro. “We’ll find you something more appropriate.”

“Thank you. Really, anything will do, it needn’t adhere to any rank or roster,” Lotor insisted.

“I’ll find you something,” he reiterated. “Allura?”

“I… if it’s alright with Lotor, I’d like to stay a little longer while you sort out the armor situation,” she said. “I still have much I’d like to say… that is, if you’ll hear it.” The shift in tone in Allura’s voice indicated she had turned her head from Shiro to Lotor at the last part of her sentence.

“Always,” he acquiesced.

“Very well, let me know if anything comes up, and I’ll let you two know once I hear back from the Coalition.”

Lance couldn’t move back from the door quick enough and Keith did not bother to try as Shiro’s footfalls brought him to the doorway. A brief moment of shock flashed over his eyes as he saw the two Paladins hovering out of the line of sight.

He sighed in understanding and turned to tap the door switch closed behind him.

“I’m somehow not surprised. But - why _are_ you out here?”

“Lotor’s awake,” Keith insisted bluntly. “Why wasn’t I in that meeting from the beginning?”

“It wasn’t a formal meeting, Keith. When he awakened, Allura was already there. She called for me to ask about finding him some clothes. You haven’t missed out on any tactical discussion, and… he’s pretty fatigued. I think anything on a strategy level might be overwhelming,” he admitted, shifting his hold on the rejected suit in his hands.

“He could handle it. There’s a dimension-ending war out there and-”

“And it can wait another day. A few more hours. Yes, you’re right. He absolutely could. That man has lived through three years in the space between realities. ...It doesn’t mean he _should._ Let him rest.”

“So what do we do in the meantime?”

“Prepare. Refuel. Resupply our ships and our bodies. Have either of you two gotten any sleep lately?”

“I get plenty of sleep, thank you very much,” Lance spoke up, almost insulted at the insinuation that his routine would get disrupted.

“The logs showed you were on the training deck all night,” Keith muttered, turning to look behind him.

“What were _you_ doing in the training decks?”

“Training,” Keith replied with a shrug, unaffected by the bristle in Lance’s tone. “I can’t sleep, either,” he admitted openly. He turned back to Shiro, leaving Lance to his irritation. “Anything you need from our side in the meantime?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not at this point.”

With a tight nod, Keith stepped around Shiro and began making his way down the hall.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro called after. 

He stopped and turned at the sound of his name just as Shiro’s tense expression broke into something softer.

“You’re doing fine.”

“Fine?” Exasperation cracked across the Black Paladin. “It’s my fault any of this happened, and I-”

“And you are making it right,” Shiro supplied gently. “Leading isn’t about making all the right decisions the first time, every time. It’s about how you _make them right_ when you get them wrong.”

Keith’s jaw tightened and he turned away once more, quick to shuffle down the hallway before his emotions slipped in front of his friends.

After a moment, Shiro’s head swung back to glance at Lance still lingering in the hall.

“He doesn’t want this,” he explained, nodding down to the iconic black armor in his hands. “And I don’t blame him a bit. Any ideas on what we can clothe an emperor in?”

“You remember that old story about the emperor’s new clothes? I’d wager he’s probably-”

“ _Lance._ Now’s not the time. Do you have any ideas or not?”

Shiro’s tense voice laced with a warning that he was not in the mood for jokes. Lance blinked once and pressed his lips closed, before dropping his gaze to the garment in question speculatively. Slowly, a sly grin cured across his expression.

“...I might. But I’ll need that.”

With a shrug, Shiro relinquished the fabric and plates to Lance.

“Thanks!”

Lance turned and bolted down the hallway in the opposite direction Keith had taken, leaving a very frazzled Shiro standing alone outside the infirmary entrance.

“I really hope I don’t regret that choice,” he muttered after palming his face.

* * *

“Pidge!”

“Holy quiznack!”

Lance watched as she nearly fell off of the lounge chair she had been tactically reclined in, controller in palm as she battled a robot overlord in a videogame… upside down.

Her feet were crossed at the ankles over the back of the chair and were her only lifeline when Lance threw the door open unceremoniously.

The ominous “game over” music played in the background as the controller slid to a stop across the metal floor.

“Lance! That was the highest level I had gotten to!” She righted herself and settled cross-legged on the bench seat, glaring as he walked in. He paused to pick up the controller near the door awkwardly with his free hand and sheepishly handed it to her as he settled on the seat nearby.

“I need help with this,” he explained. Pidge’s eyebrow only raised in response at the wardrobe in tow.

“Nope. No way. No chance.”

“But you don’t even know what it is for, yet,” he insisted.

“Lance, you’re holding Shiro’s armor. I don’t know what you plan to do with it, but I’m _still_ getting the side eye from my mom about running away in a flying blue lion ship. I will have no part in whatever hot peppers, spices, or paint you plan to prank Shiro with.”

“But _paint_ is exactly what I need! Pidge, you’re brilliant!”

“I know I am,” she replied tartly, eyeing the Paladin armor in his lap warily. “But I’m still not helping you paint Shiro’s armor.”

“It’s not _for_ Shiro,” Lance insisted. He paused, an exhale leaving his lips in frustration as he glanced away from Pidge, looking to the material he held. “...It’s for Lotor.”

Pidge shifted on the sofa and turned to face Lance more fully, realizing there was no prank or malintent to be found.

“Is he… awake already?”

“Yeah. I ran into Keith outside the infirmary. Shiro and Allura were inside talking with him.”

“Of course you two spied on them,” she huffed in exasperation. Lance pinned her with an amused look but said nothing. Her haughty expression melted into one of a co-conspirator, unable to hide her curiosity. “Did they say anything good?”

He laughed and began separating out the parts of the suit, the fabric from the armor and eyed the belt carefully.

“No, afraid not. Both Shiro and Allura were more interested in urging him to keep resting, it seems.”

“Make sense. We actually have a moment to catch our breath - and recharge the lions - we really need to make sure we’re doing that. Who knows what new evolution of a Komar we’ll be up against next.”

“Right,” he concurred. “Shiro gave him this, though. To wear.”

“So you stole an injured man’s clothes.”

Lance’s hands fell flat in his lap and his deadpan expression raised to meet a smirking Pidge.

“No, I most certainly did not steal anyone’s clothes,” he snapped back, mimicking the tone in her voice and drawing a slight giggle from the girl. He softened. “He doesn’t want it.”

“The man’s an alien, Lance. If he prefers his own clothes - or some kind of weird, shape-shifting-”

“No, not that. I don’t think he _has_ anything else. Galra Central Command isn't safe right now, with Honerva. And… his armor was pretty wrecked from the quintessence field.”

Pidge’s brow furrowed and she rocked forward, planting her elbows on her thighs and perching her chin on her fists.

“So… what’s going on, then? He can’t stay in the Medbay issues.”

“Well, Shiro gave him this, right, because it can shift to whomever is wearing it and, you know, he’s really…” Lance waved his hand over his head, indicating the superior height of the Galtean.

“Right,” Pidge nodded. “The armor makes sense - no modifications necessary, plus Shiro isn’t using his. It would easily conform to fit Lotor’s dimensions. ...I find it strange he would turn it down, though. Does he really hate us that much?”

“No,” Lance explained. “Only his father.”

“... _Oh._ ”

Pidge sat in silence for a moment as the same sensation settled over her that had caught Lance by surprise a mere varga earlier.

“Yeah. I definitely didn’t think about that,” Lance acknowledged. “Neither did Shiro, either.”

“Of course not - it’s a practical choice, a Paladin armor. Specifically designed to adjust to accommodate a range of species of pilots. ...Including ...Galran.”

“He almost sounded like he was afraid to touch it, Pidge.” Lance’s voice lowered to a whisper, the emotion cracking under his voice. An unusual somber tint betrayed the remorse he felt. “I… I wasn’t where I could see any of them in the room. But just the way he spoke about it… I could almost picture him not wanting it anywhere near him. Especially with him just, waking up after spending years…”

“...in the very place that turned his father into…”

“Right,” Lance finished quietly. What felt like an eternity swept between them, the two falling into their own quiet, meditative phases, reflecting on everything that had happened - how quickly it had all spiraled out of control… how warped the hand of time had become to someone outside of reality. What had been minutes - perhaps hours at the most - had stretched into years for everyone else. Who knew how much time had passed for Lotor once they’d left? Did time even exist at all for someone like him?

“Stupid,” Pidge muttered after a moment, wiping her nose on her sleeve, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me?”

“They’re called decaphoebs.”

A weak smile twisted at the sharpshooter’s lips and he raised his eyes to look across at Pidge once more. Her face tilted away and she removed her glasses, tucking her head so the scrawl of unkempt bangs fell between them. She fidgeted a moment with her sleeve at her eyes, adjusting something out of his line of sight.

A sharp sniffle collected her and she glanced up, returning her glasses to her face. Glassy eyes met his with a dangerous fire that dared him to comment on the vulnerability he had just witnessed.

He dared not. Instead, he moved the conversation forward.

“So, I was thinking, maybe instead of Shiro trying to find a cadet outfit that would somehow fit him-”

“He won’t. Nevermind how tall he is, those suits just aren’t… tailored for someone built like him. Not like the Garrison uniforms can adjust like the fancy Altean ones.”

“Right. So, instead of asking him to wear this, I was thinking maybe we could… change the color a bit - make it look like something he _would_ want to wear. It… won’t be the same as what he had before.”

“I don’t think anything will,” Pidge added dryly, and Lance couldn’t bring himself to disagree. “But, at least it wouldn’t be what his father wore, either. So, maybe we could turn this into something _like_ his old armor? Similar colors with the orange and the grey?”

Lance extended the garment toward her as she reached for it, and for a brief moment their fingertips touched over the common goal. When the fabric nearly slipped from her hand, he caught it.

“Thanks,” she murmured, drawing the armor over, quickly throwing herself into an engineering mindset. “I already see one major problem with this plan. Two, actually. ...Three, if we consider-”

“Just tell me what they are before you figure out more,” Lance interrupted Pidge’s internal list.

She blinked up at him and for a brief moment forgot she was doing more than self-accounting.

“Right. So, the first issue - and the main one - is that the material is entirely different than anything we’ve worked with before. It’s difficult to say without actually having his plate armor in hand, but I would bet the alloy is different to start.” Her lips pursed in frustration as she tugged at the fabric that went under the armor plates.

“So we can’t match it?”

“I don’t know how to alter the color of the conforming undersuit,” she acknowledged. “Not without a bit more research. I don’t think we can paint designs onto the fabric - and with the armor pieces not being the same shape - we just can’t replicate his old armor - even in part. It’s going to have to stay the same shape as it is.”

“Can we do anything then? He really doesn't want to be in the Paladin armor, but I just… can’t picture him in anything from the Garrison.”

Pidge’s eyes roamed over one of the gauntlets that came with the suit, rocking it back and forth as the ambient light reflected off the shiny black parts.

“No. ...I don’t think we can make this not be a Paladin armor _perse_ . But… it sounds to me like the issue is with it being _Black Paladin_ armor, isn’t it?”

Glittering, impish eyes met his.

“You have an idea,” he mused.

“I have an idea,” she affirmed.

* * *

“Shiro! Wait!”

The Atlas commander paused mid-stride and turned to look over his shoulder as a breathless Lance jogged down the corridor after him.

“What’s up, Lance?”

“Here! I -” He thrust his arms out toward Shiro, the folded Altean armor in his hands as he doubled over to catch his breath. The commander glanced between the wheezing pilot and the offering.

“What did you do to it?”

As he caught his breath and righted his stance, Lance gave Shiro a frustrated look.

“Why does everyone think I want to do something to their armor,” he whined.

“Well, there was the _one_ incident involving Keith’s-”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted. “I get it. I promise; no Food Goo this time. Just, look at it,” he insisted as the defensive tone dissipated from his words.

Carefully, Shiro took the mass of dark grey fabric from him and unwrapped the armor pieces tucked inside.

“Lance, these… these are purple.”

He turned the gauntlets over in his hands before eyeing the rest of the pieces; knee braces to chest plate; a perfectly crafted replica of the Black Paladin’s armor - in purple.

“I thought maybe he might… like. It’s different, at least, from what it was before.”

“ _You_ did this?”

“Hey! I can do stuff sometimes,” Lance sputtered. “But, no. Not entirely. I knew I wanted to do something but, Pidge had the brilliant idea of making the black pieces purple instead. Credit should go to her. She also figured out how to ionize the paint so it would bond with the Altean alloy. Should be just as durable as anything else we have, as if generated by the Castleship itself.”

“You’re starting to talk like her,” he observed with amusement. “A decaphoeb ago and you would’ve written it off as ‘techno-babble’ or something.”

Lance snorted in defensiveness, folding his arms across his chest as Shiro accepted the full pack of armor.

“Yes well, when it’s all she talks about while she’s rearranging molecular structures, it’s hard not to pick it up. But yeah. She figured out how to do it and actually integrate it all together.”

“Still, it’s a thoughtful gesture. Here.”

Shiro caught Lance off-guard as he suddenly thrust the bundle back at him.

“You… don’t think he’ll want it?” His brow furrowed in disappointment.

Shiro, instead, just tossed the man a coy smile as his Altean-craft palm touched the access pad beside him in the corridor wall. The door to their immediate right opened without hesitation and the commander gestured inside with his free hand.

“Why don’t you present it to him yourself?”

Lance’s eyes popped wide when the low murmuring in the room stopped. He blinked and grunted slightly when Shiro’s palm connected unceremoniously with his back and lightly _encouraged_ him into the room. He barely recognized the sound of the door closing behind him as Allura’s surprise melted into curiosity.

“Oh, hello Lance,” she began, straightening from where her seated frame was leaning over the infirmary gurney. He nodded once in her direction, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the lengthy form of the Galtean.

“You’re looking better,” he offered awkwardly. Lotor lay reclined against white sheets, hair sprawled over the pillows cradling his head. The need for adequate clothing quickly became apparent - the hospital-issued garments were laughably small on him. The sleeves didn’t sit right over his muscles, and the shoulder seams were clearly tailored for an earthling’s proportions.

He didn’t doubt that a talented tailor could make something that would fit the foreign man, but time was of the essence.

“Did you need something?”

Lance looked back to Allura and shook his head once, clearing his thoughts.

“Yeah - I heard about the, the armor situation and I-”

“Oh,” Allura cut him off, recognizing the folded Paladin undersuit. “It’s alright, we’ve already spoken about it. Shiro suggested the same thing and we feel that something else may-”

“No, here,” he insisted, covering the distance between himself and the hospital bed.

Lotor’s body stiffened in his otherwise relaxed position at the sudden movement. He continued to remain reclined, even as the gift was extended out.

“Lance,” Allura admonished, rising from her place at the side of Lotor’s bed, ready to intercept the Black Paladin armor before it was dropped in his lap. “He doesn’t want-”

“It’s alright, Allura,” Lotor cut in, taking the presentation. “Thank you for your consideration, but, Shiro was right,” he added as he began to unfold the fabric in his lap, though a heavy shadow touched at the corners of his eyes at the grim prospect. “It is… the most practical solution, after all. And it’s -- _purple._ ” 

Lotor’s weary sigh of resignation and acceptance shifted to marked perplexion as the painted armored pieces revealed themselves.

“It is,” Allura breathed in equal wonderment. “How did you manage this without the Castleship?” She looked to Lance as Lotor sat lost in thought, his bare palm gently stroking over the shape of the violet ‘V’ insignia across the chestplate.

“Well, Pidge figured out how. I, uh, I kind of… overhead the discussion earlier. About… _why_ the Black Paladin colors might not be ideal. So… I thought maybe we could change them. We thought first we might be able to match the old suit he had, but… Pidge had the idea of modeling it after yours, Allura - with the pink. It took her a bit to figure out how to work around not having a Balmera crystal to generate it, but... she did. So... Uh, ...what do you think, Lotor?”

He glanced to the recovering patient just in time to see eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of planets turn to him, burning with genuine surprise, confusion - and the faintest spark of hope. When Lotor said nothing, Lance continued.

“Will you be our Purple Paladin?”

Clawed fingertips curled against the bulwark; an offering of faith, of trust, and loyalty - three things the rift had left shattered from him, now restored.

Allura squeezed his hand lightly, as if to remind him he wasn’t alone in anything anymore - and never would be again. He hesitated only a moment to steady his voice before answering.

“Yes.”


End file.
